


Family Don't End In Blood: (Sibling!Alexander Hamilton/Reader)

by jennthejerk



Series: Hamilton x Reader Fan Fics [14]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014), Turn: Washington's Spies
Genre: George Washington is a Dad, Martha is great, Other, Sibling Alexander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 06:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12126729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennthejerk/pseuds/jennthejerk
Summary: You’re Alex’s little sister who got to America before he did, but the family you had been living with died in a car accident. Memories of the past resurface as you’re sent to yet another family: a husband and wife, along with their three adopted sons. But does one of them not want you there?





	Family Don't End In Blood: (Sibling!Alexander Hamilton/Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of risking a horrid mistranslation via Google, I’m going to put the phrases meant to be in a different language in brackets, the language being mentioned beforehand or right after. Spanish and French, really, nothing too drastic. I did a lot of reading up on the sickness Alex and Rachel Hamilton (his mom) had in 1767, so this is supported by the facts. (PS, I mixed in a smidgen of Turn AMC just because I love the series. Heads up.)  
> And random thing, I can hear younger Ben with a strong accent somewhat of a mix between Boston and Jersey, idk why.  
> Word Count: 4522 (IN LESS THAN TWO DAYS DUDE HOLLA)

Filth. That was the only thing you could think of. The only thing you could smell, all you could see. The only thing you felt besides your brother’s arms around you, his chest against your back. Mama was behind Alex, being the bigger spoon. It was the first time she’s slept in days, too busy vomiting and dry heaving to do much else.

Alex, older by one year, was your rock. Even though he was just as sick as Mama was, you still looked to him for support. You were only eleven after all, and your big brother was your idol.

He knew this and pretended to be strong for the first week of the sickness. Every time you asked if he was okay, he nodded and wore a brave face for you, until you spoke to him in an innocent voice after he finished dry heaving for the third time that night. “[Alex, please don't lie. I know you and Mama are sick. I wanna help you get better. Can I help?]”

You spoke in Spanish, knowing he found it adorable to hear your little accent pronounce the ins and outs of the language. He, however, was too weak to speak in the same tongue, reverting to the language that took less effort to execute. “I can’t risk you getting the same thing we have, sis. Even cleaning for us would put you at risk. Promise me you’ll be safe.”

You nodded, never being one to do something your brother told you not to do. Mama used to joke about how you listened to him more than you did her. She was always smiling for us, even if she hadn’t eaten in a few days because she gave us what little food we had at the time. Now, it takes too much of her energy to smile.

Your brother kissed your forehead, wiping it away almost immediately as if he woke from a trance where he was healthy enough to do that. “Thanks, little fighter. You give me the strength to keep on.” Alex ruffled your hair slightly before he heard Mama start retching more, which caused him to rush to her side to hold her hair back.

This was only three weeks ago. Alex was now just as weak as Mama was back then, Mama worse off than ever. You, despite promising Alex that day, were tending to them and attempting to keep them somewhat clean. You slept on the floor a few feet away from the bed soon after they became too weak to move from the bed.

They were weakened to the point of being unable to rise from their positions on the bed to use the bathroom, left to relieve themselves on the bed. You dared not clean it at that point, the smell and the diseases more likely than not existing in it a strong deterrent. You just held their hair back as much as possible and kept up face when you went on food runs to the street vendors.

No, you didn’t carry the pocketbook to town and haul several bags of food to your home. There was no pocketbook; you stole as much as you could get away with and what you couldn’t, you dropped and fled. It was a risky business, but it was what had to be done. Your brother and Mama needed food, and the odd jobs you did were to buy the medicine for them soon.

Alex was working to get the medicine, the money being stashed under a squeaky floorboard as it came in. When he got sick, you took his place when you weren’t at home with them, working till your small hands bled and after they were bandaged to pay for two doses of the antidote.

 

The day Mama died, you were doing the laundry of a wealthy couple across town. They were healthy, they just didn’t like to do their laundry. Suddenly a knock on the door pulled you from your work, but the man whose underwear you just folded answered. Sighing, you returned to your work, watching the bandages on your hands put on by the missus beginning to turn red.

“Y/N? Come here, child.” The man called for you and you immediately dropped the next article of clothing in the basket, speed-walking to where he and another man appeared to be waiting on you.

“Ms. Hamilton, you need to come with me.” You immediately froze. Alex had warned you once about large brooding men who called you by your last name. “What’s wrong? Is it my brother? Mama? Is he-”

“Your brother is as fine as he can be,” The man spoke, his voice still gruff and menacing. “Your brother is being cleaned up at the moment, rambling about money in the floor-”

Interrupting the man, you say, “That’s where we kept the money he and I earned from small jobs we do. To pay for the medicine for Mama and him.” The eyes of the two men widened slightly as you enlightened them on the situation.

“He got sick soon after Mama did, but I’ve been fine. I took over working once he got the sickness. I would have tried to buy it sooner, but I don’t know how much it cost and Alex has been too sick to count it-” The man’s wife who you work for had come into the room without you noticing -you normally noticed everything- and she gasped, a hand over her mouth and tears welling in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Y/N? We could have helped with the medicine for them both! Oh, you poor thing!” The woman began to attempt to hug you, but you shrugged her off.

“I don’t want handouts, ma’am. I work for my wage and nothing more.” Alex had scripted you on this after Mama began to vomit several times a day. It was a phrase now carved in your memory like a chisel and stone. Stealing technically wasn’t a handout, so it didn’t count.

“Well, I regret to inform you that your mother has passed this evening.” The brooding man stated simply, seeming uncaring about your world falling apart around you. “Once your mother’s affairs are sorted out, what will happen to you and your brother will be determined. Who you’ll live with, etc. etc. Now you need to come with me if you want to see your brother...”

He was still talking, but you weren’t listening. The man may not have even cared if you were listening or not, but nevertheless still kept talking.

Mama was dead. Alex got the medicine because it turned out, you could have bought both doses last week, and he was getting better. He told you that Mama was holding him as she died, feeling her last breath on the back of his neck. Alex would be haunted by that for the rest of his life.

 

Cousin Peter is dead. Alex went off to the home of a merchant that knew him, and since the man was unable to support two children, Alex knew you wouldn’t enjoy being around a wrinkly old man you didn’t know from Adam, and the couple that you were working for up until Mama died finally took you into their home.

After living there only mere months, they decided to move to America. You pleaded with them to not leave, that you needed to be near your brother, but they set a cruel ultimatum: leave with them to America or be homeless until someone else took you in. You confided with your big brother about it, adamant on staying with him.

Immediately after hearing what lied in the balance, he told you to go to America. You cried for him to change his mind because even still, you were unable to deny your brother anything. His decision was affirmed when he kissed your forehead and brought you into an embrace.

“Go on in a new country for Mama, for me. Show them that Hamiltons are not to be trifled with. I’ll find my way to you one day, I promise.” Your bottom lip poked out, tears still dripping down your face, but you were now only slightly convinced.

Conceding, you thrust your pinky finger out towards him. He lightly chuckled as he linked his pinky with yours, sealing the promise. He placed a kiss on your forehead like he had always done so many years ago. “That’s more like it, my little fighter. Now I gotta go, promise me you’ll go when it’s time?”

You nod, pulling him to you for another hug. Inhaling the smell of the ocean and books in his clothes, you are reluctant to let him go. He does for you, rustling your hair like when you were both younger and happier.

“I love you, don’t forget it.” A faint shout of “Hamilton!” was heard by the both of you and your brother’s eyes widened. “Promise I’ll see you in America, yeah?” You nod as he runs off towards the voice waiting for him on the dock.

You watched your Alex’s back like it was putting you in a trance. Not knowing it, you had seen your brother for the last time until another four years would pass both of you by.

 

 

Alex’s friends thought it was just another day, but they noticed something was off with their hot-tempered writer. He was silent -he was never silent about anything- and mopey, too preoccupied to even insult Jefferson for whatever caught his eye first.

That was the last straw for John and Herc. “Dude, there has to be something up with him. He’s not himself today.” “He was perfectly normal yesterday. Maybe he’s stuck on something he’s writing... or something…” John realized the stupidity of what he just said as soon as it came out of his mouth.

Stumped and out of options and ideas, they ask Laf if he has a vague idea of what could be plaguing their Caribbean friend. “Ever since he moved here, I’ve kept a list of days where he acts like this. I tried to ask him about what may be troubling him, but he ignores me.” John and Herc raise their eyebrows incredulously at their French friend.

Ben approaches the group, his presence being acknowledged with nods from the trio.

“Over the past few years, it’s the same days when he’s this, um, -‘ow you say- moody! Yes, moody! I even tried to ask what their significance was but that made him, well, something beyond angry, but still noticeably sad…” Herc is confused as to why Lafayette would have such an interest in the behavior patterns of their friend enough to keep a written record of it. John was busy trying to figure out what the days could mean to Alex. Ben was only faintly sure about what they were talking about, no one bothering to fill him in.

Neither of the three made sense of the thoughts in their heads, Lafayette seeming to be proud of his expression of friendship with Alex.

The mopey man-of-the-hour himself was approaching the lunch table, so the conversation topic was briskly changed.

Instead of eating, Alex was just moving his food around absentmindedly. He would regret that when he’s up at late hours of the night writing whatever he writes in his days. It would hurt him to not have food in his stomach. He had access to plentiful amounts to food living with the Washington’s and his two adopted brothers, but the pain - it anchored him to reality. It reminded him of his past and kept him from forgetting.

Then again, there was no way he could forget the past. Forget his mother’s spirit floating around somewhere in the cosmos, his little sister taking on the world without him. He’s been in New York for almost three years and has had no reason to hope for seeing his sister again.

“Alex? Alex! Did you hear me? They’re firing Mr. Arnold from the Athletic Department because he falsified records claiming he had no criminal past. Isn’t that newsworthy?” John was attempting in vain to capture Alex’s attention, Herc and Lafayette looking on worriedly.

The dismissal bell cut the worry-fest short, the four boys dumping their trays and preparing to power through the rest of the school day.

 

“Why do we have to get another person in the house, especially a girl? We’re plenty, the five of us. I object this idea of a new addition completely. All I’m gonna say. Count me out.” Alex rose from his chair and headed towards his bedroom, deliberately knocking down the chair he once occupied to emphasize his point. Martha cringed at the noise the impact made, the boys worried about their brother.

Laf had brought Ben up to date with the developments in the case of Alex’s mood swings. Ben found it interesting above all else. This was just another jewel added to the treasure trove of evidence proving Alex was going through something tough on the days of the year Laf had kept track of.

Lafayette and Ben looked to George to see what he would say to that if anything. George didn’t bother shouting to Alex from downstairs, instead addressing the two boys still sitting at the table: “She’s coming, end of story. She’s going to arrive tomorrow and be welcomed into her new home with open arms, more or less.”

“What about Alexander, dear? He doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea,” Martha questioned her husband. George sighed, his head falling to rest in his hands. “He’ll just have to live with it. Mercy had specially requested her to be sent here to our home because if she didn’t come here, she would have been admitted to the system,” George now turned to his other two sons, Martha rubbing his shoulders in support.

“Mercy has never steered us wrong before. How do you think the three of you are here now?” The two boys nodded, their faith in this Mercy woman being built because the boys got along well and they were in a loving home. What could go wrong with a sister added to the family?

“I think it would be a nice change to have a sister. I’ve never had one before,” Ben commented with a soft smile. This made George a little less tense, the relief coming a little faster when Lafayette added, “Another bit of womanly touch would be nice to have around the house. And oui, I don’t recall a sister back in France. It would be an adventure, I think.”

Martha smiled at the two boys, glad most of everyone’s on the same page. “That’s the spirit, you two! It’ll be fun for me, having someone to spend girl time with and it’s high time you boys had a sister.” She placed kisses on their foreheads before heading to the kitchen to prepare supper.

“Maybe we can convince Alex! What do you think, Benny?” Laf nudges Ben, who nods in agreement. “We’ll try to, Pops. Hopefully, we can get him on the same page as us.” With that, the boys head to attempt to change the mind of their stubborn brother.

 

“Mercy, who are these people?” You question the woman. She introduced herself to you as Mercy Warren, but each time you addressed her as Mrs. Warren, she ignored you, forcing you to resort to the first-name basis she insisted upon when you met her.

“The Washington’s, you mean?” You nod, knowing her eyes were on you through the rearview mirror of her car. She was driving you to the home of the Washington’s and their three boys. When she told you they had three sons, you wondered why on God’s green Earth anyone thought this was a good idea. The only other woman in the house was the retired General’s wife, and who knew what the sons were like if their father was a General in the army.

“Their sons are adopted. The couple never had kids of their own, if that’s what you were thinking.” You hummed in acknowledgment, not even bothering to ponder how she knew what you were thinking. “The General may seem scary, but he’s one of the nicest men I know. His wife is something else, a wonderful woman indeed.”

You absorbed her words in your head. Instead of asking more about the parents, you ask if she knows their sons. “I do, but since adults and kids see other kids differently, my opinion of them wouldn’t help you any. That you’ll have to figure out on your own, kiddo.”

So much for that.

Riding the rest of the trip in silence, you watch the houses fade away in a blur as you pass them. You think that Mercy has probably been to the Washington residence many a day, seeing how confidently she’s navigating the neighborhood’s winding roads.

“Y/N, sweetie, we’re here.” Mercy called to you as she opened her car door, headed to the trunk to unload your bags. Getting out, you observe your surroundings. In front of you is a beautiful house with three stories and a cupola on top. The house was beautiful, to say the least. The yard? Don’t even get started on the yard, it was huge and seemed to fit the house well.

“Mercy, what if they don’t like me? What if one of their sons doesn’t want me there? What if-” “Calm down, Y/N. I find that a highly unlikely possibility. Those boys are very kind if nothing at all. Now come along, it’s time to go in.” Mercy interrupts your rambling and you sigh, knowing this woman has all the power.

You grab your bags from the side of the car where Mercy set them, determined to have at least a little bit of control in a new, unknown environment. You walk to the door in trepidation, not really wanting to go in.

“Go on, knock on the door.” Mercy prods you on. You are almost impatient with the woman, but you know she’s only doing this for you.

Rapping on the door sharply, you wait. You hear pounding on the other side, wondering what possibly could be happening on the other side. You’re about to knock again when a light-haired boy with blue eyes opens the door with a fwoosh.

“”’Ello Mercy, nice to see ya! And you must be our new sister…” “Y/N. Nice to meet you, um,” “Ben, Ben Tallmadge. Come on in, I’ll show you around.” Ben opens his arms towards the inside of the house and your breath is taken away by the beautiful walnut staircase to the right of the entrance.

There was another door directly ahead of the door you just entered, and you presumed it went to the backyard. There were other open doorways that led to other parts of the elegant house. You would have all the time in the world to explore them since you were going to be staying here indefinitely.

Your thoughts about the future and the mysteries in the house are interrupted by someone barreling into you, grappling you in a bear hug. It startled you, but you hugged the person back despite having a faceful of its hair.

“[Bonjour! Je M'appelle Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette! My name’s really longer than that, but you just got here and no one really uses my full name.You can call me Lafayette, mon ami. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to meet you even though I didn’t know about you till yesterday-]”

The boy with the puffball on his head was rapid-firing French your way. You were fluent in the language but his rambling was nearly impossible to keep up with. Thank goodness a crisp, rough voice interrupted the tirade with a shout of “Gilbert!” that made the Frenchman stop in his tracks and look down in what seemed to be embarrassment.

The man who you presumed owned the voice entered the room and you were scared stiff. He was a large and imposing man, bald head almost glistening in the light. ‘This must be the General,’ you thought to yourself before he spoke again.

“Welcome, Y/N, and sorry about Gilbert. He gets excited easily. Martha’s just finishing dinner and if you’d like, you can help her set the table if it’s not too much to ask.” You nod, about to ask which way the kitchen is but he interrupts your thoughts.

“The kitchen is detached from the main house. We have a breezeway to connect it, though it is exposed to the elements. The boys have mini-fridges in their rooms in case they want to snack in the middle of the night.” ‘What?’ you thought to yourself. ‘They all three have their own mini-fridges? Awesome!’

“There’ll be one for you once you’re settled down and you choose a room. We have plenty of space and the dining room is through that door to your right. Martha will show you how to set the table.” You thank the General as you walk towards the dining room where a short, pleasant-seeming woman was carrying in a ham.

“Mrs. Washington, I would like to help set the table-” “Nonsense! Tell Ben to drag himself in here and do it. You’re free from housework and chores for the first week, then you can make an agreement with the boys as to what you’ll do around the house.” She saw your puzzled facial expression at the statement and decided to explain a little bit.

“George and I don’t care what’s done by who in this house as long as it gets done. Strange, but it works. And just call me Martha, sweetie.” “Yes Mrs. Wash- er, Martha. I’ll go get Ben.” With that, you leave Martha to her task and attempt to find your way back to the central passage where you hoped the others still were.

You thanked whatever entity gave you what you asked for in the form of Lafayette, running into you in the doorway of the dining room.

“Y/N! Mon ami! I was looking for you! I’m sorry about the French earlier, I don’t know if you even understood it,” You smiled at the Frenchman. You were warming up to him quickly. “[As a matter of fact, I am fluent in French, so don’t worry about it. I also can speak Spanish, if anyone else does]” His eyes lit up like a child on Christmas at your French, pleased to have yet another housemate that spoke in his mother tongue.

“Also, where’s Ben? Martha was wanting him to set the table for dinner,” Laf grabbed your hand and dragged you to the west parlor, where Ben was in the room with George and Mercy.

“Benji! Mama is calling you to the dining room,” Ben nods, rising and leaving the room. “Has Alex not come down yet?” Laf questions George. He shakes his head somberly. “Who’s Alex?” He’s probably the third son that hasn’t made an appearance. That is, if Ben and Laf are their other two sons, not counting the one you haven’t seen yet.

They are; you can see how George looks at them. It’s something you’ve never known; you presume it’s how a father would look at his children. It’s something you’ve always yearned for despite never really remembering your father.

“Y/N? You okay, honey?” Mercy must have noticed the far-off look in your eye. If only your brother were here to see this; he would have loved it. You had the feeling there was a study somewhere in this house and seeing it probably would have made you smile and cry at the same time.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking is all.” You shrug as you sit next to Laf on the white couch. “Not to pry, but may I ask about what?” George asks you with a gentle smile. He really seemed like a gentle giant that could be forceful if need be.

“Just my brother, I haven’t seen him in years. We were separated when I was twelve, a year after our mom died of disease back at Nevis. What I would do to see him again...” The room turned somber for a moment before Laf shot out of his place on the couch, scaring you out of your wits.

“Mon ami, what is your last name?” You raise an eyebrow at his question, wondering why it became such a pressing matter just now. “Um, Hamilton. Why do you-” Before you could finish, Laf sprinted out of the room, tripping over his own feet as he was yelling for Alex to get downstairs.

George’s expression was unreadable, but Mercy had the biggest smirk on her face as if she had a secret plan folding out in front of her.

In the distance, you heard shouts of protest accompanied by Lafayette shushing them. Seconds later, a heavy thud is heard and on the ground in the doorway is a heap of a person that apparently Laf just dropped there. The person attempted to leave the room, but Laf was blocking the exit. Ben was in another doorway with Martha, drawn to the noise.

“I was in the middle of something! It better be important or I’m gonna-” You made eye contact with the infuriated human in the doorway and you froze.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. There he was, right in front of you. Healthy and alive. You were in denial.

Alex moved towards you first, his face softening and eventually becoming wet with tears. Time had stopped, but your mind was speeding at a thousand miles a minute. But when you felt his arms wrap around you, it brought your body to its senses and returned the gesture, wet eyes and all.

“My little fighter… I missed you so much,” Alex whispered in your ear as you gripped him tighter, hands digging into his shirt. “Alex… I missed you too,” You sniffled. After so long, he was there in front of you, the smell of paper still rich in his clothes. It was now accompanied by the aroma of coffee and mint, and it brought more security now than you had felt since before Mama had gotten sick.

“Alex, son, you never told us you had a sister,” George breaks the silence held by everyone else as the hearts of the Hamilton children were being mended in front of them. Mercy was still smiling with a few tears falling down her cheeks. “You knew all along, didn’t you? That’s why you had her come here! You’re brilliant, Mercy! Brilliant!” Lafayette ran to the woman, hugging her tightly.

She nodded, sniffling slightly. You gestured for Ben to come to where you and Alex were standing. He seemed apprehensive, but Alex did the same and he finally relented, joining the growing group hug.

Martha goes to her George, holding his hand in hers. He kisses Martha’s hand gently. They both had the same feeling, and they knew it was mutual: their family was finally complete. They were satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> The description of the house is directly from the virtual tour of Mount Vernon because THAT IS ONE GORGEOUS MANSION NOT EVEN KIDDING


End file.
